From Rags to Riches
by FairMoon
Summary: In which Fuji Shuurei was a popular and rich girl, and Ryoma was a poor scholar student.


FROM RAGS TO RICHES

_Written by Playgirl Eugene_

**Author's Note :** Hmm. I was reading some Prince of Tennis older fics out of boredom and then, an idea came crashing in. I've created one Femme!Ryo in _**The Bold and the Beautiful**_, but I rarely see a Femme!Fuji, no? Especially one where he's paired up with Ryoma, so I thought… why _not_? Then, I went up to Moon-chan and asked if she wanted to work it out with me and she said that there's a first for everything and so… tadaa!

**Standard Disclaimer :** The original Prince of Tennis and all of the characters, including the original plot, belong solely to Konomi Takeshi-sensei. We own nothing of it and we do not earn any profit from this. This disclaimer stands firm for the whole of the story. Furthermore, if we use any material that needs to be disclaimed, there will be individual credit where due.

**Warning(s) :** Gender-bending, crude language, sarcastic and slightly sadistic humour, hinting sexual themes though implicit for now. Rating may change in the future, depending on the readers' requests. It can be either hetero or yaoi however you want to view it actually, because it's gender-bending. When what's supposed to be boy became a girl and got into a relationship with another boy, what do you suppose that? Oh, and there will be a bit crossover with Ouran Host Club.

**Summary :** In which Fuji Shuurei was a popular and rich girl, and Ryoma was a poor scholar student.

**Setting and Timeline :** Following the original story.

**Character Setting :** Beside Fuji Shusuke, Akutagawa Jirou, and Kikumaru Eiji have their gender bent, everything else is pretty much the same.

**Chapter Details : **None in particular.

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PROLOGUE

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"_Money, money, money… must be funny in the rich man's world."_

_-- 'Money, Money, Money' by Abba_

"Shuurei-chan, do you want to come with us to the cafeteria?"

A petite looking girl with shoulder length auburn hair looked up from a wide, glossy random scenic photo album splayed before her, a sweet smile already plastered on her small face almost automatically so at the two girls standing near her desk.

"Iie, that's alright. My maid already brought my o-bentou from home." she politely declined with a small wave of her hand.

It was pleasantries, formal and polite exchanges between female classmates that didn't really have a true meaning behind it. She was used to it -- accepting when she should and declining when she could. They were used to it -- asking it because who she was and what benefit of the rare, small piece of friendship they offered.

"Oh, I see. Enjoy your lunch then!" her classmate, unsurprised and beamed before she tugged on her friend's sleeve, urging her to hurry up if they want to be able to "get a glimpse" before lunch break was over. So giggling and chattering excitedly, they quickly fleeted out of the classroom.

Shuurei felt slightly curious as to what caused _that_ lately. Almost everyday now, each girl in her class had been acting very… _strange_. For example, what used to be best friends became rivals, sometimes there were girls bursting into the class with tears, and some were giggling almost unnecessarily over small talks. Suddenly, all the girls in class looked positively _prettier_ these days; with their hair styled neatly and their make-up perfectly applied.

The shortest girl in class, Minamino Tsukino, was suddenly 7 inches taller by forcing herself to wear high heels that was both forbidden by school and resulted in a few bruises and a sprained leg when she fell from the stairs. Kurosaki Mami replaced her black framed glasses with contact lens to show off her beautiful glassy grey eyes. Miyamoto Mio suddenly let her hair down more often and unbuttoned the first two buttons of her school uniform to show some cleavage.

And suddenly, the cafeteria became the latest, most trendy hanging out place.

Shrugging indifferently as usual, the ever unchanging Fuji Shuurei once again focussed her blue eyes on the smooth texture of the photo album's glossy surface. Her thin, delicate fingers trailed over gently across the finely taken pictures as her eyes tried to capture every single detail ardently.

People said that she was strange like that, but nonetheless Shuurei could care less when people talked behind her back about how particularly strange she was, because they would never speak to her face, remembering who she was. It was always like that for as long as she had remembered, and for being a Fuji, it was a price she had to pay. She'd let it slide because there would never be an end to it even if she did try and so, as long as they didn't offend her directly, she'd pay them no heed.

A girl like her who had everything -- a pretty face, a smart brain, and a rich daddy -- should've had a cooler hobby than collecting and staring at photos, and not a single one of those photos was something that most girls of her age would usually fawned over.

Unmoving pictures of bugs, clouds, mountains, trees, and birds though artistic were apparently not a popular theme with them.

Fuji Shuurei didn't care though; they'd have to accept her anyway, which they did. She could afford not to, because she had what it took to stand solitaire and still as influential.

It had only been a week since Fuji Shuureistarted her third year of high school life at Hyoutei Gakuen.

Barely a week she transferred there from Seigaku, and she was already accepted into the upper-class circle of her classmates. Most were she noticed were the daughters of some of Japan's most prominent business men and her father's business associates, others were some powerful figures in the politic world.

In this harsh world where money and power could buy even human lives, she was a giant; a part of the fortunate circle who didn't have to struggle for life.

She was aware though, of how this so-called friendship was built out of convenience, status, and pride alone. They befriend her for the same reason they befriend the others like her, for Fuji Shuurei was the second daughter of Fuji Yusuke, an influential business man who had just won the recognition as the second wealthiest man in Japan and scored only fourth in Asia.

Shuurei herself had a lovely face and she was also intelligent; a very nice girl, as they dubbed it. She didn't flaunt her father's assets and she was soft-spoken, helpful, and cheerful. Her soft, fluttering honey coloured hair was beautiful and her baby blue eyes shone with sharp intelligence.

It made her popular amongst her friends. But somehow, she was always the loner in the huge crowd around her. Even with those widely smiling faces, she still felt _alone_. But she took whatever she could take; putting on ready smiles as she tried to ease the uneasiness suffocating her chest whenever she faked a laugh.

But people were wrong if they thought Shuurei loved her perfect little life and her perfect family as much as they would or half as much as they thought she did.

That was the life she wanted, and ultimately wasn't what she was allowed to have. It was the Murphy law and simply the rule of one couldn't have all.

Demure, unassuming, and gentle like calmly flowing river had been her nature. But at heart, like the pictures she oh-so-loved, Shuurei was a wild and free romantic; she desired adventures, excitement, and she sought for thrills. Life for her was meant to be short and filled with obligations but it supposed to be meaningful.

It wasn't that she was incapable of doing it, but it just bugged her knowing that she'd never be able to do something on impulse, just to be selfish and childish -- because it was wrong, because she was taught not like that, and because she had to think of the name she was burdened with by birth.

No, Shuurei wasn't a dreamy girl who wanted to be loved and coddled like any other foolish romantics. She was fine with her parents busy at work and her sister married off and her little brother living in the dorms; she was given freedom and everything she needed and everything she asked for -- though they didn't grant her much because she never asked for much except for some togetherness that seemed to be a lot more difficult and expensive compared to everything affordable -- never asked for too much in everything.

Shuurei was fully aware of her responsibilities as one of the heiress of the Fuji family; her duties, her obligations, and the demands made over her birth were to be fulfilled.

Shuurei sighed exasperatedly.

Sometimes, life could be so boring.

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Echizen Ryoma skilfully counted the bills. His nimble and experienced fingers not missing a single sheet of Yen as he sat in his small living room, his lower body warmed by the cheap looking comforter as scribbled notes, bills, small changes, a single calculator and worn yellow pencil, and bill notes scattered on the table.

As much as he disliked crowds and loud noises and girls and the incessant chattering going on around him -- well, to be fair, he basically had very little likes; those _likes_ including money, Ponta, money, sales, money, sleep, food, money, Karupin, and more money -- he had to admit that the job paid well.

Out of everything his parents gave him, he was thankful for three things.

One of those things apparently was his looks. Though he wasn't at all a vain character by nature or did he ever knew what was so good about how he looked that everyone else but him seemed to notice, but he couldn't argue that it brought him luck when he was looking for part-timing jobs. Usually, shop owners sought pretty looking youngsters to be displayed on the counter to attract customers and that meant more chances for him to get odd jobs.

Apparently, Hyoutei's cafeteria, which was freaking and almost ridiculously huge by the way, thought the same and thus offered him double of what he got from the video rental if he was willing to work there during lunch and afternoon breaks. The school was aware that he had financial problems and since he was one of their scholar students, it wouldn't do if his academic performance as the award recipient for math, science, and literature as well as the president of the scholarship recipient research department dropped just because he was too busy jumbling between odd jobs of God knew what out there.

Considering that he'd just be handling rich brats and not people who continued to shot glances between him and an AV in hand before getting their eyes all suspiciously bright and starry, Ryoma quitted his job almost immediately -- ignoring the almost teary pleading of the rental shop owner.

And as it turned out, the cafeteria _always_ did teem and bustle with crowds, whenever he's on duty. Somehow, his new set of admirers kept tabs of his shift at the cafeteria, much to his frustration.

While it wasn't that bad, but as stated before, he loathed noises and a crowded cafeteria was always associated with _din_. It was ironic to find him working on a place like this, where smiles and pleasant personality were required because those two details were actually his short-comings. It wasn't like he had a choice though; he needed money and the rich, snotty rich kids never failed to give him awfully large tips, probably in hopes of attracting him into their arms and their beds.

So he'd let the touching, groping, and flirting slide. Oh, yes, he was a slut for _money_.

For that, he'd even sell that million dollar worth of gentle, angelic smile he knew would weaken the knees, at them. While he didn't literally get a million dollar, he'd get free lunch at least.

He was aware that his mother came from a wealthy family, but she was _disowned_, in a way, because of her unapproved choice of husband -- not that he failed to see why though. Despite all that, he never had any qualms with living on so-so conditions, until his mother died in a car accident on her way to work that day.

He had been studying late the night before for an exam and he woke up late. He didn't see his mother during breakfast and only saw the breakfast of peanut butter sandwich and milk she had prepared and a small note.

_Ganbatte, Ryoma!_

… with a smiley on the corner. Ryoma sighed fondly at his mother's childishness, but smiled wistfully despite himself.

Then, that happened and everything _changed_.

His mother's family despised his father, but they felt that Ryoma was rightfully their responsibility since he was the flesh and blood of Rinko -- their most accomplished and refined daughter, it turned out, who was somehow _charmed_ by the goofball who then became her husband -- and beside, Ryoma fulfilled every condition there was to be a heir of their fortune.

Ryoma was everything like Rinko, and they deemed him suitable enough to replace her mother's position in the family, apparently.

At the funeral, both clad in formal black, a thin old woman with neat hair pulled into a secured bun and stoic expression with a grey haired man looking like he had just been forced eaten bad eggs and rotten cheese knelt before him, claiming to be the grandparents they never had.

He didn't understand how Nanjirou, usually brazen and hot headed, could handle each insult thrown blatantly to his face by those… _rude strangers_ so calmly. For he couldn't, _couldn't_ for the love of God.

His father was a lazy bum and a pain half the time he was awake, but he was a decent old man.

When they just _declared_ that Nanjirou wouldn't be able to raise Ryoma properly in every mean there was, they _would be taking Ryoma_ like the boy wasn't there and listening to it. Nanjirou, looking more agitated and resigned than angry, handed the decision over to him completely and said that he wouldn't stop Ryoma from wanting a better life, and Ryoma decided to refuse to take the easy way out. So, with the _finger_ flashed, he damned the grandparents into silence before dragging Nanjirou by the collar out of that room.

He wanted to prove to himself, to everyone, that he could live by himself. Taking part-time jobs and, to people's astonishment and his personal sadistic pleasure of his _grandparent's_ shock, he waved his smooth path to Hyoutei, an exclusive private academy that only accepted the rich and the talented with a _full_ scholarship.

For now, life was simple and okay. He'd manage, he thought.

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"_Akutagawa Jirou, Ore-sama demands you to go out with him this Saturday! And no, he will not accept "no" for an answer or he'd—!"_

'PLAK!'

"Hey, what was that for?!"

Atobe Keigo ungracefully rubbed the back of his head which was hit by a familiar red haired girl who had a huge tick on her head.

"Nyan! Kei-chan, are you trying to ask her out or are you trying to make _war_, nyaa?!" Kikumari Eiko pouted as she crossed her arms indignantly, "That's no way to ask a girl out!"

"What the hell's wrong with that?! Ore-sama always talked like that to his servants and maids!"

The lightly tanned girl sighed in resignation as she shut her eyes and shook her head, "This one's hopeless, nya… " Eiko's dark blue eyes glanced toward at her other friend, who was smiling gleefully at their antics. As usual, Fuji Shuurei seemed to be amusing herself with her private thoughts, teasing people that she _knew_ something good she wasn't going to share.

"Ne, ne! Shuurei-chan, say something to him! He's soooo thick, he's not getting the point!" she completely ignored Atobe's spluttering protests, "At this rate, he's gonna get dumped before outing number one!"

"Ore-sama will _not_ get _dumped_!" the only male in the room insisted, "Such improper words!"

"Hush you!" Eiko exclaimed as she pointed at the diva with a scolding fashion, "You don't know anything about a girl's heart even though they said that you are a ladies man! Shame on you! Shame on you!"

"Actually, isn't this exactly because Kei-chan finally conceded defeat and came to us for help after being rejected out flat by Akutagawa-san?" Shuurei innocently titled her head to one side with a subtly teasing tone.

Atobe opened and closed his mouth a few times before he flushed. Huffing haughtily, he spoke, "I did _not_ get rejected!" he protested, dropping the usual third person honourable self-approach, "She fell _asleep_ when I was talking; she's the _Sleeping Beauty_, for God's sake!"

"… Kei-chan, it's not something to be proud of when someone dozed of during your speech…"

He glared at the demure brunette and did something an Atobe did best when upset, he _sulked_. "Shut it, Fuji Shuurei."

Right now, the three friends since Kindergarten days were lounging at Atobe's private lounge as the diva seemed to have quite some trouble -- or just a little _dilemma_, like he insisted on -- about his love life -- again, his _career_ as a Don Juan, he corrected. And so he decided to ask -- he never asked, he snorted, for he only _enquired_ -- his two best girl friends.

Fuji chuckled; it was always entertaining to watch the two of them bantering like children, a side they'd never show to their parents, but shamelessly displayed upon each other.

"So what do you suggest Ore-sama do, ahn?" haughtily the Atobe heir crossed his legs and laced his fingers together in a masculine fashion.

"Simple, nya!" at this, Eiko beamed, "You bring her some pretty flowers to show your sincerity and simply ask her out for a lunch! Easy, ne?"

"No!" Atobe immediately rejected the idea without any hesitation.

"Eeeehhhh?" Eiko pouted as she titled her head in an adorably confused manner, her eyebrows meshed together. "Why _not_, nya?!"

"Because it's too _mundane_! Ore-sama--" Atobe declared as he pushed his fringes to the back with one hand, "-- is not to be associated with _simplicity_! He will make the girl _awed_ with his generosity! And his suaveness!"

"Then go down to your knees with a poem or a self-written song or something!" the redhead frowned.

"Oh, hell no!" the Atobe's heir looked almost dramatically horrified at the suggestion. "Ore-sama will _never_ go down to his knee, even if it's the beauty queen herself! And no, that sounds so old fashioned!"

"You're not giving us any choices!"

"Who said that Ore-sama is giving you choices?"

"B, but!"

Eiko stared at him before she heaved again, and turned to her other—more sensible friend—and tugged on Shuurei's pristine white skirt. "… Shuurei, Ei-chan gave up, nyaaa… you try it…"

Shuurei simply giggled before she turned to Atobe with a gentle smile. If there was anyone who could control the hyper-active redhead and the unbearable heir without losing 10 years of their life while trying, then would be her and that subtly persuasive nature of hers.

"Maa, maa… Kei-chan, not all girls like such profligacy." she said slowly, as if talking to a child but not in the superior manner that she knew Atobe hated in a good way. "Some girls like it better when you're being straightforward and simple. What matter the most is your sincerity."

She lidded her eyes gently.

"Girls like them are rare, Keigo. They want your heart to be surrendered, not your money to be flaunted."

Atobe frowned a bit but said nothing as Shuurei took on that gentle tone, which reminded him too much of a mother to deny. Shuurei always knew the words to subdue him and she was always the wisest among the three of them. Growing up with her taught them that Fuji Shuurei was not one to fiddle it, even if she was a young and inexperienced heiress. But she was a Fuji and a ferociously smart young woman; if you were not careful, she might eat you alive without you realizing it.

"… Che."

Shuurei smiled. When Atobe did that, it meant that he had caved in or nearly, anyway. It was not Atobe Keigo's style not to do something extravagantly, but at least he'd try to for now. By her own good judgement, she had to comment that Atobe had a fine taste.

Akutagawa Jirou, a surprisingly masculine name for a girl so pretty, was a beautiful third year in Hyoutei with long, light brown hair and round, Bambi doe eyes. Mostly, all she did in school was falling asleep on her desk, on the school ground, and almost anywhere else. And she was also very difficult to wake when she did, and thus they entitled her as the resident _Sleeping Beauty_. She was a nice and honest girl though, never spoke ill of another, and always positive.

It was easy to see why the boys liked her and it was not surprising that even _the_ Atobe Keigo took interest of her.

But the thing was, she was kind of… _peculiar_ in the term of personality. A bit oblivious and ignorant and dense, she didn't even get it when someone openly flirted with her if they didn't actually tell her about it. Jirou was also immune to the jealous glares and snide remarks about her because she was either too busy dozing off, being too optimistic, or unaware of sarcasms.

Shuurei was thoroughly amused though, when that actually got to the point where she dozed off when Atobe made the usual an unnecessarily exaggerated declaration of love -- or, more like _an order_ for her to go out with him -- on the school ground, when she promptly _fell asleep_. She never thought she'd live to see a girl reacting like _that_ when an Atobe Keigo was actually putting effort into _something_.

She gave her two thumbs up. Her childhood friend was known to be a stone-head though, he wouldn't back out until he got what he wanted, and he seemed to want her bad. For that, she needed to help by making sure Atobe didn't do anything stupid to completely lose this—she was actually the best out of all the girls Atobe took interest in before, personality wise and such.

'_Saa… this is going to be interesting…'_ Shuurei thought as Atobe and Eiko picked up where they left their earlier banter.

"Well, enough about stupid Keigo!" Eiko chirped in cheerfully.

"Ore-sama _what_?!" the heather haired diva yelled indignantly, "And there will never be enough when we're talking about Ore-sama and his greatness!"

"Actually, it _will_ be endless if we're talking about your vainness, idiot Keigo!" Eiko jibbed while sticking out her tongue childishly.

"Ore-sama is _not_ vain!" he defended himself, "He is just too glorious to be left unspoken about --"

"What about you, nya, Shuu-chan?" Eiko fully ignored Atobe once again, "Have you found anything you like?"

"It's _anyone_, Eiko." Shuurei titled her head to one side sweetly, "And no, I haven't."

"Nyaa… but Fuji, you never have any boyfriend before!" she paused and looked down thoughtfully, "Well, not real ones anyway, if we discount those you toyed with…" fiddling with her fingers before she suddenly looked up again, "You're so pretty and smart, why don't you have one?"

Atobe raised an eyebrow, clearly indicating that he was also interested in this old topic they had discussed many times before ever since the start of their high school.

Shuurei chuckled again, "It's nothing, Eiko. I just haven't found someone with the _"it" _feeling is all."

"Che! It's always the same excuse, Shuurei!" Atobe huffed indignantly, another pout touching his lips—not that he'd ever admit that he was actually pouting each time his wishes weren't granted or when he didn't like something. "What kind of _"it"_ do you want, exactly? Is there even an "_it_"? What if you never find the _"it_",ahn?"

The blueness of Shuurei's eyes, this time gleaming and bright, was twinkling.

"Then I'll keep on looking until I find it." she answered, "After all… a woman must do even the insane to get what is best for them, and I'm a woman who will get what I want."

Atobe actually berated his amazing self for even asking.

The redhead of the trio looked terrified and trembling for some reasons. "You're not seriously looking for a boyfriend who can drink Inui's concoction, are you, Shuu-can?" Eiko's pace paled on several degrees while Atobe turned blue. The chances of their sweet friend never getting married somehow seemed to…

"Ah, no. I'm a romantic, not insane actually. Inui's concoction can be… a little spicy at time." Shuurei tapped her chin thoughtfully.

_Spicy? _Spicy_?! It's the most disgusting, revolting, nauseating, and sickening thing in the whole wide world that should've been banned before it caused greater death toll!_

"But… I think that will be nice though." the brunette hummed softly, her foot kicking a little. "You know, someone who can share what you like… who can feel your joy when doing something together with him…"

Shuurei's smile was sweet.

_Yes, Shuurei. But your taste is a little…_

Atobe's eyes alight with realization for a second and then he tried hesitantly, "… Ore-sama think Kabaji can --"

"Aih!" Shuurei flapped her hand with a small and innocent laugh, "Oh, please, Keigo. We're talking about getting me a new boyfriend not to discuss your pet gorilla right now."

Her two friends went quiet.

… _This personality is why Ore-sama and Eiko are worrying for her future._

_Unless she got someone who can match that subtly vicious tongue._

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"Baka oyaji…" a slender, sculpted eyebrow twitched irritably as a young boy of 15 tapped the spatula against his shoulder, while his other hand was resting on his thin waist. "You _don't_ damn turn your face away when I'm talking about the lack of your morale that brought eternal shame upon the two of us."

Nanjirou pulled away the cigarette from his lips, wincing slightly as the words rolling off the scathing tongue, and stared at his only son while blowing smokes from his nostrils, before he ground out, "… Brat, boys _don't_ scold their father while holding a spatula, clad in apron."

"Shut up. This is all your fault that we don't have enough money to pay bills, let alone to buy take-outs." he snapped; voice dangerously low.

Nanjirou grumbled as his son stood at the genkan with an expected face. He had been home escorted by a local police officer who apologized because he was suspected to be a peeping tom who had been seen around the neighbourhood stealing women underwear lately. Nanjirou protested that he was a pervert, but certainly not someone _that_ low and grumbled even more when his son smiled commercially, making the police officer stammered and blushed.

As soon as the man was gone though, with a silly grin on his freckled face, the raven haired teen slowly turned toward his father with a completely different expression from earlier and his glare steely.

He merely stood with his arms crossed patiently while his father spluttered his explanation in a messy rage fit of self-defence that no one else but a son who had been living alone and tolerating him for years could've understand.

Ryoma stared, raised an eyebrow, and said nothing.

After that though, it was settled with a simple hit on the head before he dragged and dumped his father in the bathroom.

"You stink."

And then, he returned to the kitchen to check on his stew while ignoring his father's loud protests. Considering that it was only a three room flat of a kitchen with a small dining table for two; a living room with no sofa and no heater, only a small television set that sometimes showed only TV static, and a small table with cheap comforter; and a bedroom they shared; it was small and a little stuffed though it had very few furniture in them and had only one bathroom, almost everything could be heard throughout the apartment.

Ryoma sighed exasperatedly.

To be honest, he was tired.

The school year started a week ago, meaning that he was already a high school senior for a week. Ah, another privilege of being superior in study… you got to skip classes really fast -- and the teachers did complain much when you skipped school (to work, obviously) or when you fell asleep in classes (lacking in sleep because of work, obviously). One year skip means one year's school fee used for bills and groceries.

His boring life which has been, up to now, filled with the constant routine of working, studying, working, working, and cooking. It was a daily thing, just as daily as to find his locked filled with various love letters and star-eyed staring unblinkingly at him.

Sometimes, life can be so boring.

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"Kyaaaaaaaaaa!!! He's so handsome! So sexy! So utterly _sexy_! So ubberly (is that even a word) cute! It's like—what?! He's sculpted out of pheromone that makes you want to just smother him to death!"

"E, Eri-chan…" the girls sweat-dropped as a few of them gathered around the excitedly squealing girl who was blushing and slapping the table repeatedly and loudly before shaking her head while clutching her cheeks.

Eiko sweat-dropped as she entered the cafeteria with a casually humming and smiling Shuurei behind her.

"… Eh?"

"Ah, his voice! His delicate hands! Those soulful eyes…! That _angelic_ smile…!!" Erika continued on, her eyes dreamy while her voice was even more pitchy than usual, "Kyaah! Don't do that!" she squealed again.

"What's wrong with Eri-chan?" Eiko asked Tamura, one of Erika's closest friends, who was sitting the nearest as the two of them approached the table that attracted a _lot_ of attention.

Kawamoto Erika was this really loud and cheerful girl who was famous for her fetish over shopping and gossiping cute guys. She wasn't so bad, in fact she was very friendly and fun to be around, but her obsession over good looking guys was kind of scary. Erika could stalk someone day in and day out, especially if that guy was cold and _mysterious_ as she dubbed it.

"_Pretty boys with a traumatic scar in his past to enhance his beauty are the hottest thing ever."_

Her hobby was a bit… _dangerous_, but she was also known for her sophistication and fierce loyalty toward her friends so Erika was quite popular, especially because everyone in 10 miles radius could hear her scream when she saw her pretty boy, like she was doing now.

"She went into one of the fantasizing fan girl mode again…" Tamura sweat-dropped as she smiled a little.

"Well, for one thing… she finally got to meet the new counter boy at the cafeteria that the girls are being so noisy about lately…" her brunet friend flushed a bit, indicating that she too had seen the boy in question. "And now she's being _high_ about it… and I'm still waiting for her to shimmer down…"

"I see… nya…"

Shuurei looked to the side, and judging from the extremely almost ridiculous long queue, it seemed that Erika was not exaggerating this time. Even that infamous number one girl of Hyoutei, the Miyahara Ami, was busy with her make-up kit. The usually sassy and confident freelance supermodel, Kiyama Mayura, was fidgeting _nervously_. Hanakomachi Sara, the Italian-France mixed blood, was straightening her uniform and fixing her hair almost too unnecessarily. Acts, which the young heiress noticed, done by almost everyone on the line.

"Nya! Shuu-chan, let's go already! If the queue gets any longer, we'll _never_ get our lunch!" Eiko pulled on Shuurei's arm as she groaned. She never met the guy before, but this was a little troublesome on days that she forgot to bring her o-bentou.

After a leg-numbing thirty minutes and a show of the much talked guy effortlessly ignoring Miyahara, Kiyama, and Hanakomachi who was blatantly flirting as they ordered, resulting Miyahara huffing off in total embarrassment and fury when she was shoved off for being annoying and disturbing, Kiyama turning bright red and nearly fainting before she managed to speak under his icy golden glare, and Hanakomachi was almost crying on her knees and begged him to go out with her, they got to order -- _finally_.

Up-close though, they finally got to see the face that was previously blocked by the taller heads in front of them and both, being merely girls despite their status, were dumbstruck. Ah, yes, the guy was indeed something else.

_Bizarre._ Simply bizarre, because he had no other word for it.

He was pale, _very_ pale; paler than even Fuji, and his skin looked so smooth that it would bleed at a single touch. The dark hair framing his face contrasted his skin and set it to an even more pallid tone.

His eyes though, were astute -- exuding a very cold image, yet slightly effeminate with his long and dark lashes. His facial features were delicately sharp, from the shape of his jaw and chin, to the slope of his forehead and slim nose. Under the white shirt and slightly baggy cargo pants topped by an apron, he looked tall and slender with long legs and limbs.

"Your order?"

His voice snapped Shuurei back into reality and she had just realized that the artist in her had appreciated the raw beauty splayed before her and she itched to get a camera and eternalized him in a still frame. She just _knew_ that he'd be the perfect object for the photography; his bizarre and androgynous look and his provocative, nearly insolent glares despite the angelic smiles were very attractive indeed.

As Eiko ranted on and on about what she wanted to eat, infamous for her bottomless stomach to no one's surprise, Shuurei took her time to examine the boy and entertain her idea.

He looked young, even younger than her, but so mature and quiet that almost unfitting for a boy his age; his voice husky and quiet, his movements minimal and casual -- almost careless and economic, showing practicality and yet strange elegance. He reminded her of a certain, popular tennis captain she knew from her high school days. But Tezuka Kunimitsu had been too stoic and a little too… _old_ for his age and her taste.

This one seemed to have a different kind of fire in his eyes.

After Eiko's long and almost endless stream of orders -- "Etoo… and I want this, and a little of that… umm, on second thought, I want some of this too… ah, give me that as well. And add this, and then I want that… another one of this… and…" -- his eyes turned to the young heiress of Fuji for a moment and as gold clashed with blue, the staring competition began.

Unnerved, yet slightly ticked because the boy didn't squirm under her usually intimidating gaze and instead challenged her almost nonchalantly, Shuurei beamed sweetly as she kept her rarely lidded cobalt eyes open.

But then, a smirk that bore unmistakable resemblance to a sneer – looking almost too sinfully sexy and caused more than a few girls, and even some _boys_, to swoon and nosebleed, but undoubtedly taunting to the startled Shuurei -- touched his devilishly red lips and he shrugged his shoulders casually.

"I am not on the menu, unfortunately."

_Saa…_

Shuurei's smile twitched just a fraction of a millimetre as unmistakably pulsing dark aura began to swirl around her, making Eiko flinched and freaked out. But the boy seemed to be unperturbed and the uninterested languor was back in his eyes, making them unreadable even to Shuurei.

_What…_

"… Saa, I only want Lunch Set A is all."

… _a…_

"Hee…"

… _brazen…_

As his voice floated through the room, smooth and obviously choir alto quality but completely lacking in actual human emotions, Shuurei felt a certain unfamiliar emotion bubbling inside of her.

"Really?"

… _brat._

For the first time in her life, Shuurei really wanted to kick someone on the face.

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**End Note :** … So, how's that? And yes, we know that we should be finishing our other fics, but… review… please?


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